iui no. 4. the wait day 9. insanity.

Per usual, a post written quite awhile ago, during IUI no. 4. Just a peek into the insanity that was me during that time. It makes me laugh yet also makes me cringe remembering how difficult it all was and is. Knowing I’m heading right back into this territory in a few weeks makes me nervous.

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Today was the first day since the actual IUI procedure that I started letting myself wonder if it worked. I’ve been through this too many times to get my hopes up. I’ve had too many broken hearts and sad moments. I’ve learned. I know that the meds are messing with my body (and my mind), but it doesn’t keep me from wondering. Lately though it’s been driving me crazy because of one thing in particular. Something new in my regular ‘symptom spotting’ check.

People. MY BOOBS. I just don’t even know what to do with them right now. They are incredibly sore and they are just…. BIG. And this is perplexing to me since I am not a well endowed woman. These… THINGS… on my chest, good grief. For example, I was at the gym for a weights class over lunch, we always face the wall of mirrors (if that isn’t motivation…). I noticed in the mirror that my chest was just… bigger. Much bigger. I was actually at the point of wanting to stop the workout because I was embarrassed. Things were just flying all around nimbly bimbly out of control. Clearly my workout top that is fine for my normally small chest was NOT cutting it with my new and improved boobs.

The development of the boobs is what started me down the path of being overly hopeful for awhile. I had to remind myself it’s just a side effect, stop thinking it’s anything more. I have to work hard to protect my little heart. So I keep reminding myself the boobs are simply thanks to the progesterone. Oh the lovely progesterone. The progesterone side effects game runs deep. Every bit of nausea, exhaustion, bloating, outlandish rage at little things, ravenous never ending hunger and the boobs; I attribute to the progesterone.

But part of me can’t help but hope it’s not just the meds, that there is in fact a little fighter of a stinker bean in my inconvenient uterus making my boobs all big and sore. It’s sooooooo hard to hope though. I squash down those thoughts whenever they pop up, I give myself a hand slap and tell myself to clean it up. Speculation is brutal. It’s so incredibly tough NOT to do it, but it’s so incredibly tough to let yourself do it. It’s a no win situation really.

Ugh. The madness and insanity that is infertility. Seriously. I was listening to NPR the other day and they were talking about the definition of insanity. It sums up what infertiles go through every. Single. Month.

Infertility can suck it.

I need a nap.

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